Dead to Writes (April Almighty #1) by Tim Miller

screaming.
         “Help me! Please someone help me!” she screamed.
         “Go ahead and scream. Ain’t no one gonna hear ya. At least no one who would help,” he said as he carried her back to the shed.
     

Chapter 19
     
         “How much further is it?” Bobby asked. They had been walking almost twenty minutes. The road wound around for a ways, but he hadn’t seen a single house.
         “Not much further. Should be just up ahead,” Higgins replied.
         “Don’t think you’ll get off easy if you’re fucking with me. I’ll shoot you in the nuts.”
         “Duly noted.”
         There was a narrow lane that came off the road just to their right up ahead.
         “Right there. That’s like their driveway, but it winds around a bit.”
         “Ok, you first,” Bobby said as he pushed Higgins up the lane. They walked for several yards as the land wound around through the woods and trees. Around the final curve, there was a white box truck sitting along the lane.
         “That’s Cletus’ truck. He uses it for deliveries and whatnot,” Higgins explained.
         “And whatnot huh?”
         “You know.”
         “No, please enlighten me.”
         “When they go grab someone for fun. They use that truck.”
         “So for fun? What do they do for fun? What are they doing to my daughter for fun?” Bobby asked. The anger was welling back up. As the fatigue set in he found it harder not to just let the rage go. Though he already had some in the strip club, shooting the place up. He wondered if they’d prosecute him for all this, or should he even report it? None of that mattered now. He was close to finding April.
         “I don’t know man. They never let me watch. Everyone here knows about it. These boys are good boys. They help folks out around town. I here Marty is a big time book writer now. Got a book on the interwebs and everything.”
         “Oh wow. Maybe I can get his autograph.”
         “Funny.”
         Just ahead was a house. It was two stories, but run down looking. The porch had no steps leading up to it, and some of the windows were boarded shut. Yet, there was a satellite dish on the roof.
         “Ok, go inside,” Bobby ordered.
         “I don’t have a warrant.”
         God did this fucking fake Podunk Sheriff just say he needed a warrant?
         “I’m your warrant. Now go.”
          Bobby stood behind him as Higgins pushed the door open. It swung open, but there was nothing inside.
         “If they find us here, we’re both dead,” Higgins warned.
         “Where do they keep them?”
         “What??
         “The girls, when they bring a girl back for their fun, dumbass. Where do they keep them?”
         “Shit man, I told you I don’t know. They bring them here and people talk about it, but I never been up here. It’s not like they make a party of it or somethin’.”
         Bobby looked around and took Higgins with him from room to room. There was a laptop of all things, a big screen TV and some old furniture. Plus the place was a mess and smelled like someone took a big shit in the middle of the house.
         “Maybe they went for a walk,” Higgins said.
         “A walk? I swear, if you’re fucking with me…” Bobby said, but as he looked out the back window, he saw a huge man holding a rag over his eye walking through the back yard. Well yard is a strong word. More like back field of dirt. There were old cars and junk strewn about the back field. Behind all that was a shed which looked like it was in better condition than the house.
         Bobby leaned back from the window so as not to be seen. That shed was it; she had to be in there. The back door creaked open as the big man’s footsteps stomped through the house. Bobby ducked into a closet while pointing his gun at Higgins face while holding a finger up to his mouth, as a signal for